I walk through the green undergrowth, the world around me glowing green as sunlight shines through the crowns of leaves towering above me. I love it here. I love it here so much. But they must not know I'm here. The lord and his men must not know I'm here.

I dig through the brush all around me, on the hunt for herbs to tie under the skirt of my dress and sneak back into my hut. I look for herbs to conduct magic with. Magic that is, completely and absolutely, proscribed for people like us.

You see, magic is only allowed to be practiced by the nobles and royals of this land. But that doesn't change the fact that a secret network of magic users and teachers exists. That doesn't change the fact that secret folk magic practices are created and spread and added onto and perfected, that this has been happening for years. It doesn't change the fact that people still need healing and protecting, for them and for their crops and livestock. And it doesn't change the fact that us regular people have to make magic, no matter what the risks are.

I kneel down on the soft, loamy ground as I come face to face with the plant I need, a short, leafy shrub whose tubers are needed in a protection spell for new babies. I dig my hands into the dirt, the task being far too delicate to use a shovel. I feel around, oh so slowly, until I find a tuber. I break off the tuber, and store it away underneath my skirt. I only need one, and the plant needs all the rest. I pack the dirt I displaced back into its proper place before watering the plant from my water skin.

"Thank you for your gift," I whisper to it, bowing my head.

I walk on through the forest, trying to find where the plants I need could be, based on their optimal growing conditions. Alanthi grows on downward slopes, and so I walk my way through the valley, watching my step so that I do not trample on any plants as I go. I must walk softly on the earth. I must be careful towards her.

The Alanthi bush rises wild and jagged and high above me. And I softly part its branches to reach the green buds that grow inside the guarded exterior of the plant. I gather up a few, no more than what I need, and I put them in the same place as the tuber. I bow to the plant, and thank it for its gift. And I walk on.

In a matter of a few hours, I have collected everything that I sought out to collect. All the medicine that will make the people of my village healthy. And I am walking homewards, to the little hut on the edge of the town that I share with the other magic users.

I am sad that I am leaving the forest, the forest that creeps to the very edge of the town with its protective cover, the forest that can always calm my heart no matter what. But I know that I have much more work to do. I know that I will be back within a few hours.

In the hut, I am met by Cuthbert, who is cutting up his herbs for the potion that he is working on. I put a small metal pan over the great hearth at the centre of our hut and I fill it with water from the stream. Then I place all my herbs inside and allow them to soak.

The stream water is clean and clear and fresh and cool, the perfect water to make a potion for a baby with.

"Is this for Alexa and Katia's new baby?" Cuthbert asks me.

"It sure is."

"I can go give it to the child. That will leave you free to go to this afternoon's meeting. I know how much it meant for you to go."

"Oh, thank you, Cuthbert!" I exclaim. "You're so kind."

"No problem," he replies, smiling to me.

I braid my dark, frizzled hair quickly and put on my boots again. I guess I'll be seeing the forest again sooner than I thought.

The meetings don't have a set location. They just occur wherever the forest decides that they will occur. This is to keep all of us safe, since if no-one knows where the meetings are, no-one can be tortured for information. No-one can give us away.

So I follow the flow of the forest and I let it pull me to wherever it is pulling me to. I follow the flow of the forest and I walk through hills and valleys and streams and thickets. I walk by nests and burrows and springs and logs. And I end up exactly where I need to be. I end up in a large circle formed by all the other witches in the village and the neighbouring villages.

There are not many of us, only a few dozen in total. But there doesn't need to be many of us, because as long as we can heal people and help people, that is enough. That is all we need to do.

I see a new face, as young teenager dressed in a long shirt - or is it a short dress? - and with their hair falling in two golden braids down to their knees. Another new witch for us to teach. How beautiful. I love that our tradition and our magic is still going strong.

"Welcome, everyone." Calliope's voice rings bright and clear from her spot within the circle. "We are gathered here today to conduct our ceremony of communion, where we will all commune with each other and commune with the forest so that our powers can grow in strength and our healing can grow in power."

"Praise be to the forest," we echo as she pauses.

"Today we are also welcoming a new face, the lovely lass Mairinn Clarson. Mairinn, address the gatherers."

"Hi, everyone," her voice is kind of shy. "I'm really excited to be here and to be part of the ceremony of communion. I'm from Thusnelda village and I am learning under the guidance of Taylor Hausen."

"Welcome," we say to her in a messy unison. She blushes. She's so very sweet.

We gather in a circle, amongst the shrubs and the grasses and the herbs all around us. And we hold hands. Clara places a skin of water in the middle of the circle before joining us again. We all look up to face the sky. And we start chanting.

The song is low and melodic and beautiful, out of tune and out of time but so deeply, irrevocably human that it is divine. I let the cool wind, slightly too chilly, blow through my face and my hair. And I cling tightly to the hands all around me, all of us forming an unbroken circle. And I let myself melt into everything.

I am one with the witches all around me. I am one with the kindness and the anger and the fierce protectiveness and the secret subversiveness in all of their hearts. I am one with the forest all around me, with the wild, wild lands where energy and love and guidance and teaching flows through everything in a never ending, interconnected web. I am one with the village that is my hope, the village full of people who are, just as I am, struggling to get by. The village that has my heart and is my heart in its entirety. I am one with all the other villages that dot the hills and valleys and the slope of the mountains. They are all so very different. They are all the same. And all the common people, they are my soul.

I jerk my head straight as danger flows through my connection, as danger floods all my inner senses. The forest is telling us something. Telling us that we need to run. I briefly make eye contact with all the other witches in the circle around me. And in a split second, we bolt, all in different directions, all rushing towards the refuges and the hiding places of the forest.

I let my feet carry me to wherever the forest is pulling me, too full of panic to truly see where I am going. I hear the clopping sounds of hoofbeats thundering behind me. It's the lord's men. It's the lord's men. What do I do? How do I escape them? My lungs burn and my legs burn and my whole being feels as if it is filled with bright, purposeful fire. I hope it will be enough. I hope I can get away. I hope ...

I scream as the rough rope of a net falls over me, making me tumble to the ground. I move my arms to lift it above me. But before I get the chance, I am seized by strong arms clad in hard chain mail and I am held down. I scream and thrash until I am aching and hoarse. But it's no use, as I am tied down and then lifted unceremoniously onto a horse, where I am dumped belly-down like a sack of flour.

I am tied down for the whole, long, painful ride to the castle, terror building up like a sharp spire through my heart. I don't know what will happen next. I do know what will happen next. I will be punished, maybe even killed, for disobeying the lords and practicing magic. I don't want to die. I don't want to die.

But even amid the terror, one thought blooms inside me, strong and sure like a flowing river. I hold onto that thought, and I let it grow like the branches of the oak tree. The thought is simple: whatever happens, I will hold on to my dignity. And I will hold on to my people's dignity.

This does not make the anxiety lessen. Not at all. But it gives me the strength to keep on standing, metaphorically, no matter how much pain I am feeling. No matter how much pain I will feel.

Eventually I am thrown to the floor. A hard, stone floor in a dusty courtyard. Before the rider can get off his horse, I pull myself up to my feet. This seems to be the back entrance of the castle. The place where they bring in prisoners. I feel like throwing up, but I force myself to not. I cannot let them know how afraid I am. I cannot let them know that they are affecting me.

No words are exchanged as I am yanked over to a metal pole against the wall and tied to it. And it is there that I stay until the sun goes down beyond the horizon, and through the darkness and chill of the night, and until the sun once again rises in the east and lights the world in the morning's brightness.

My stomach is aching and my throat is parched dry. But this is not very new. I have gone longer without eating before. All that is new is that I've never done so in the castle. My whole body is exhausted and aching, and my mind is rushing with thoughts of what could possibly happen to me. I am working myself into insanity.